Called to the Grave
by Rienuaa
Summary: AU where Jessica has mind control powers as well. Things heat up, and she takes a walk on the supervillain side. Rated F for fucking awful. Heavy Kilgrave shipping abounds, so if you like arrogant psychopathy you'll probably like this.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is an awful AU of mine, but it's the best one I have that lets Jessica make her own choices.

* * *

It was a very rainy day, and that meant bad for business. The coffee shop I worked at was in a prime location, but much of our seating was outdoors. This meant long lines for coffee, and longer lines for tables. Fortunately, all I needed was proximity and time. It didn't matter what people were doing, it mattered they were doing it near me.

My name is Jessica Jones, and I can control minds.

My power gave me a low level field around me, around fifty feet in diameter, that makes people more susceptible to my will. After enough exposure, they would begin to obey anything I wanted them to do, as long as the task wasn't anything they wouldn't do normally. As far as practical uses of subtle suggestive power, all I could find was occasionally getting better tips. This wasn't the big leagues of mind control - this was maybe letting me cut in line once in a blue moon, and even then only maybe. After aliens almost killed us all in New York, it became clear that some of us just had powers - and some of the powers were better than others.

I don't mind much, to be honest. I'm just happy to be out on my own. The abusive family that brought me in eventually left me alone, and that was exactly what I wanted. It took years to "convince" them to formerly disown me, and hopefully my influence on them doesn't wear off.

Oh, that's another thing. I don't know how long my influence lasts. I also don't think there's a range. I'm fairly certain that it can spread without me through people I've had a lot of contact with. I have to be careful to keep my emotions in check, too. If I start getting upset, those I have my hooks in might pick up my intentions as instructions.

Like I said, bad for business.

So I got a job here, in the middle of the busiest city in the world. Here I can reach out to as many people as possible, and limit the amount of influence I can spread to any one person. I'm not afraid of my power, I'm just afraid of the fallout. Well, maybe a little afraid of my power.

What I should have been afraid of was _him_.

He walked in the door bone dry, followed by a dripping wet man holding an umbrella. He was tall, with dark hair and eyes, wearing a purple dress shirt with the top button undone. His eyes skimmed the room, not lingering on me for a moment. He sauntered to the front of the line and whispered something to a barrister, then turned on his heel and walked to one of the corner booths. He leaned over the occupants, and they quickly gathered their things and left. He slid in, facing the room, and motioned to the man holding the umbrella. The man with the umbrella, shaking slightly from the cold, briskly walked over and pulled a laptop in a sleeve from his coat.

I noticed all of this because for the first time in my life, there was a gap in my power.

It felt like my field, my bubble, it never reached him. Like there was a black hole around him that just sucked all of my influence out.

The barrister walked into my field of view, holding a cup of coffee in a ceramic mug and a freshly warmed croissant. She placed them on the table in front of him, before jumping a little and looking around, shaking her head, and walking back toward the counter. He didn't even acknowledge her, but did take a sip of the coffee.

All I could focus on was my power.

The barrister was focused until the moment the food hit the table. The millisecond that happened, she snapped back to the comforts of my influence. And he… he was still a dark spot. A gap. A person I couldn't reach, or read. The umbrella man, still freezing and cold, was beginning to succumb, but had some of the same resistance. He was crying, I realized with a start.

I had to appear normal.

I intensified my focus on my job. The clink of the dishware and the hum of the conversation. Focus. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I felt a lapse in the conversation as the room breathed with me.

The resulting renewal in conversation must have been more than the purple dressed man could handle. He finally tore his eyes away from his laptop and shouted

 **EVERYONE SHUT UP**

They did.

The coffee shop went silent. The patrons were motionless. All faced straight ahead.

All except me.

I was reeling inside and out. His words… I felt them. _Felt them._ They hit me like nothing ever had.

He was turned back to his laptop now. The silence was almost deafening. He smiled slightly to himself. My hands trembled as I clutched a pile of dishware.

I dropped a mug.

The ceramic shattered and a shard nicked a nearby person's leg. It began to bleed. The customer did not react, but the man in purple did.

We locked eyes. His mouth twisted into a sneer. He rose, slowly, never taking his gaze off of me. The corners of his eyes crinkled. I broke eye contact, and took a hurried step toward the door.

 **STOP**

That was directed at only me. I gritted my teeth as the command echoed around the room. I glanced toward the man… who looked surprised. The word had been angry, but he showed no sign of it. I took another step.

"Stop. Please."

I didn't stop. Those were just words, not commands. There was no power behind them. Spoken softly, pleadingly. Was he scared? I didn't want to find out. I needed to leave, get away from him and his power. He was like me… but nothing like me all the same.

I could feel him in the corner, my power confirming he hadn't moved.

 **EVERYONE, PICK UP THE NEAREST KNIFE**

That got me go stop. Everyone else in the store picked up their knives and looked toward the man for further instructions. I could feel them in my influence, still, but their will was his alone.

 **POINT IT AT THAT GIRL**

No. No no no. Oh my god, he was that strong? It would have taken me years to make them do anything this drastic.

 **TAKE A STEP TOWARD HER**

They obeyed.

This was bad. This was so, so bad. The crowd was blocking the door and everyone's eyes were trained on me. The closest people to me were about a foot away, and I had nowhere to go. Maybe I could duck under one and

 **IF SHE ATTEMPTS TO LEAVE, KILL HER**

I looked in desperation to the man in purple. He was smiling. It reached his eyes.

Focus, Jessica. Focus. You can still feel the crowd in your aura, you can still hear their heartbeat. You can fix this.

 _Stop. Please. You don't want to do this._

Unlike the man in purple, I didn't have the raw power to force people to obey. I could only suggest. Here, now, though, I needed them to listen.

 _Put down the knife and go back to your family and friends. You don't want to hurt anyone, you don't want to be mixed up in this._

I had something he didn't, though. I had finesse. I had power, and it was different but maybe it would be enough. I could shake their control.

 _Just walk away. Walk out of this. Break free, break out. Break away._

I breathed in and out, and the crowd breathed with me.

"I can feel you trying to get inside of my head."

He was british, which in the grand scheme of things was not surprising. His voice was smooth, level. Enthralling. I could almost taste the sinister undertones, and I could definitely taste the intrigue.

"No one's ever been able to resist me before."

I looked over. He motioned toward the booth, smiling warmly.

"Please, sit. I won't hurt you."

"That's a fucking lie." I snapped back. I could feel his pull on my power, which didn't help to distract me from the crowd holding knives. One or two of them were trembling. Good. I think I can snap them out of this.

He nodded in affirmation, before pausing and speaking to the crowd.

 **PUT DOWN YOUR KNIVES AND GO BACK TO YOUR DAY, AND TELL NO ONE WHAT HAPPENED HERE**

This wasn't addressed to me. I could almost feel the words blow past me, a slight mist against my skin. Goosebumps. He had power beyond anything I've ever known.

The chatter in the shop resumed.

The man's eyes were pleading. He licked his lips; a subtle, nervous gesture. I took one last look out the open door before I walked over to join him.


	2. Chapter 2

"I won't patronize you by acting coy. You've obviously seen what I can do." His voice was softer now, and he stared at me with wide and curious eyes. His lips parted into an expectant smile as he awaited my response.

I stared down into his mug of coffee. The man had forced a colleague of mine to make it. I hoped it tasted as bitter as I felt.

"I don't talk about myself to strangers."

"Well, I'll start. My name is Kilgrave."

I snorted, more out of reflex to humor than actual, you know, humor. "Kilgrave? Are you serious? Was Deathskull not taken?"

"Oh, please. It's only got one L. It's not that bad." He laughed, despite my remark.

"Whatever you say, Murderfortress."

"That one doesn't even work. Fortress has the wrong number of syllables. Shankstab works, though." He even had the audacity to wink.

Now we were both laughing. He took a long drag of his drink, and tore a bit off his croissant. "So, what's your name?" he asked before taking a bite.

"Sorry, Dreadblood. I still don't know you."

"That one sounds like a pirate captain. But fine, fine, I'll just tell you a little bit about myself, and hopefully you find time in your oh so busy schedule to reciprocate." He leaned in. "And I'm sure I don't have to actually threaten you to suggest you remain discrete, right?" His hand brushed the handle of the knife. I shivered.

"My name is Jessica. Jessica Jones."

"Good! Now, where to begin… how about my powers!" His eyes shone with pride. "I can force anyone - well, almost anyone - to do whatever I want, when I want. My control lasts roughly 24 hours, and as long as I keep compelling them they will retain all previous commands. I spend my days finding new people to order around, and my nights with anyone I desire. It's a charmed life, definitely, and it's not gotten old in the slightest. My control can change anything about a person, from their personality to their, well, preferences. As soon as I get inside their heads, they are unable to disobey, no matter what. Like this fine gentlemen over here -" he gestured to the man with the umbrella, who was beginning to dry off after spending some time indoors "- he's been instructed since about four hours ago to carry my things and make sure I am dry. I've also told him that if he lets even a single drop touch me, he will rip off his own face with his bare hands."

"That's barbaric!"

"It's efficient. This was a very expensive shirt. Dry clean only!"

"As if you didn't just take it off the shelf."

"Well, okay, true. You got me there."

"Christ, this is insane."

"No more insane than someone else messing with my own personal mind voodoo. You make it hard to think, you know that? Like a constant buzzing in the back of my mind, telling me to obey."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, babe." I shot him a glare. "C'mon, Jessica… you obviously know I'm telling the truth. Don't tell me you've never cut loose." His eyes sparkled with malice. I've never seen someone this driven before…

An awkward silence was all I could respond with. I started tearing a paper napkin into progressively smaller chunks. He decided to push the issue.

"So with all of this untold amount of raw psychic power, why do you still work here?"

Ouch. He had a point, which is the worst kind of insult.

"I don't want to hurt anyone. The more people I… 'infect'... The less I can hurt them."

"How noble. I kind of wish I had your idealism. I just spend my time doing whatever the hell I want. So, what, your power just wears off? I could feel you trying to break my control earlier, but it probably takes a lot of time to do anything substantial, right? Otherwise everyone would have just dropped their knives."

"I don't have a lot of practice."

"Honesty is the best policy. But really, you've never just had someone drive a fork into their eye? Not even when they deserved it?"

I cut him off. "No one deserves that."

"Really, now. You can't think of a single person."

"Oh, I can think of lots of people." My boss. My parents. A hundred other people. All of them taking advantage of me…

Another awkward ugly silence.

"You'd be surprised at how fun it can be." His wry smile matched his cold eyes. I could get lost in them, those dark irises and the cool and callous mind behind them. The thunder in the distance somehow matched his demeanor, punctuating his words.

"No matter how much I'd like to take revenge on those who've fucked me over, it just isn't something I can do. I work with the subconscious, not the conscious. I can make someone like me, not make them kill themselves. Besides," I added, "I'd want them to suffer."

"Now we're talking, Jessica Jones. You just continue to surprise me."

"It doesn't wear off, you know."

"And yet again, another shock." He feigned a gasp, before leaning in close again. "Are you really telling me your power doesn't wear off? Christ, you could be living a better life than I am, and here you are working for minimum wage like the rest of these peasants."

"Unlike you, I don't have the capacity to steal anything I want without consequences."

"But you could, if you really put your mind to it."

I met his steely gaze. His words weren't a command, but there was an implicit expectation in his phrasing.

Could I?

I'd be lying if I said that delusions of grandeur weren't my first reaction to my powers developing. Memories of me imagining revenge, angry tears streaming down my cheeks, flashed through my mind.

Focus, Jessica. Breathe.

The conversation in the room lapsed a little as the room breathed with me.

"Honestly, no pun intended, that level of control takes my breath away."

Him interrupting my reverie was the least of my worries. What he was saying was horrible, but it was true.

He continued. "I think all you need is a little taste, and you'll see. You'll be hooked, just like me."

"What am I supposed to do? Just think angry thoughts?"

He laughed darkly, before shooting me another wink. "All you have to do is hold on for the ride."

Kilgrave rose, and addressed the room.

 **YOU THERE**

He began by pointing at the man nearest to the door.

 **LOCK THOSE DOORS AND FLIP THE SIGN TO CLOSED**

He smiled and waited for the click of the lock before continuing.

 **EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM THAT ISN'T ME OR JESSICA JONES, KILL EACH OTHER**

The room responded almost instantly. Patrons of all ages grabbed their silverware and began attacking each other. Some forgoed tools and used their bare hands, scratching and biting. There was no hesitation, no fear.

I was overwhelmed. I could feel their anger. Their hate. Their overwhelming need to obey.

I stood, and Kilgrave slid an arm around me. "Just watch, Jessica," he whispered. "Isn't it _intoxicating_?"

It was.

Oh god. I could feel it. I could feel _him -_ his power, his control. His sick, sadistic smile. I could feel the fight, its energy. I could feel the joy they felt when they killed each other, and it was… good.

I leaned on him, the only affirmation I could muster. He tightened his arm around me for a moment, before relaxing. The rain and thunder made an almost elegant backdrop to the carnage.

"See what I mean?" he murmured. It was barely audible over the din of the fight, but I didn't need to hear the words to grasp the meaning. He was clearly enjoying it as much as I was. His face was slightly flushed, and he seemed to be swaying on his feet.

"Buy me dinner first, Kilgrave." This time I was the one who winked.


	3. Chapter 3

I have to hand it to him, he did have a very high quality of life - if you ignored the awful way he sustained it. Here we were, at the best restaurant in the city, eating for free. I barely recognized the items on the menu, but somehow Kilgrave made sure it was all cooked to my liking.

He was also quite an excellent conversationalist. Although my initial impression was that he was only self-centered, he seemed overjoyed when I chimed in. I didn't have much to share, compared to him my life was fairly mundane. He had apparently done most of the things there was to do. From commercial spaceflight to starring in his own opera, it became clear that there simply was no limit to the lengths he'd go with his power.

Well, beyond the 24 hour time limit. Apparently be could make someone do anything, as long as he compelled them at least once per day. But it had to be physically him - there was a range on his power. Amplifying his voice didn't work, it was proximity.

"I do try to avoid superheroes, though. Messy stuff. On the off chance one of them is immune, I keep my distance. I also tend to stay in a single area as long as possible. It's easy to tell someone to meet at a certain address if I know I'll still be there tomorrow."

"So do you remember the things you've told people?"

"When I'm addressing them I just know what I've told them to do. I think it's part of the suite."

"And, wait… you seriously haven't tried to become a superhero?"

"Jessica. Please. I'm pretty sure the Avengers do background checks. Plus, the nature of my control is… sinister at best, and cruel at worst." He punctuated his sentence with a forceful stab of his fork into the table. "I hurt people, Jessica. Again and again. I'm not superhero material."

"You sound bitter."

"I keep forgetting you're in my head."

"That was just a lucky guess." My sarcasm wasn't lost on him, and he shot me a coy smile. "Plus," I added, "I can't read you at all. You're a gap in my power. I don't think my influence even reaches you."

"You mean I've been brutally honest this entire time for no reason at all?"

"If it helps, you strike me as a terrible liar. You've probably never had to lie to anyone."

"It is less of a skill and more of a talent, actually. I've never had to learn, but that doesn't mean I'm not good."

"I know I'm either good or my power makes me good, whichever. It doesn't matter, does it? I consider it a part of me, just like lying about my skills."

"It most definitely is a part of you. That's a good way of looking at it. And -" he paused "how do I know you're not in my head right now, making me believe you?"

"If I knew what was happening in that filthy brain of yours, I'd have thrown my drink on you hours ago."

"Oh, that's not fair. You seemed to like our little walk on the wild side. You liked it quite a bit, actually." His smarmy smile made me blush. It was true, though… I didn't like thinking about it, but feeling the emotions second hand made them less personal and more… vivid.

"With talk like that, I'm almost beginning to suspect you've gone mad with power."

He laughed deeply. "Of course I've gone mad with power. Have you ever tried going mad without power? It's boring, no one listens to you!"

I definitely know he isn't afraid of speaking his mind in public. I suppose a lot of it was due to his inability to be charged with a crime associated to his power - he committed atrocities by proxy, but never in person. He tends to leave areas with a broad shout of "tell no one we were here, and if you are questioned about me you have no idea what they are talking about." It's definitely the smart thing to do, but it does pull me out of the romantic mood a tad when he spends time micromanaging someone.

Honestly, though, tonight was going well.

"So," I began, leaning in close. "When you're in control, can you feel what they feel? The same way I can?"

His smile faded a bit. "No, actually. I get a sort of pull when I'm directing someone, and it feels good to me to order them around, but their thoughts are theirs alone. I can make them speak their mind, but it isn't really the same, now, is it."

"It honestly isn't all it's cracked up to be. For years I had to deal with this useless feedback when someone nearby was having a rough day. Recently I've just been focusing on tagging as many people as possible with as little as possible to slow the spread."

"Spread? Are you serious?"

I rolled my eyes. "Calm down there, Satan. It's not like a virus. It takes a lot of effort to get someone above that threshold, and without a lot of upkeep it isn't viable for anything long term. I'd probably need to be focusing for years to start seeing any incremental growth beyond the bare minimum."

"But it's possible, isn't it? Cripes, I'm out here eating fancy dinners, and you could be out there ruling the world!"

"I don't want to rule the world."

He scowled, the first angry expression I've seen from him. "What's the point of having mind control, then? Why even live your life if all you want to do is be just like everyone else? Tell me."

There was a little bit of a command in there, as I could feel the power behind it. I don't think he put his full weight behind it; that, or he realized what he was doing too late and tried to pull back. That was one of his flaws, I had realized - he was not used to someone who didn't answer his direct questions.

Was I really the first person he's ever had an actual conversation with?

The worst part is, I didn't have a good answer to his question. I did, however, have one of my own of equal magnitude.

"So you're saying that the only point of living is to live to the best of your ability, right?"

"Yes."

"So why haven't you conquered the world, yet?"

"I think I've been pretty clear why not. My power can't be amplified, so no matter how big my organization gets it still physically needs me to call the shots for everything."

"That sounds like an excuse, not a reason."

"What, you're saying that I'm not up to it?"

"I'm saying you could have been the coolest supervillain ever, and instead you visit posh coffee shops to pick up women."

"I didn't come there to look for you, you know. I just like to switch up my morning routine sometimes, get some fresh air. Besides, we've already talked about me and a hero or villain career. If I meet another parahuman I can't control, I'm out of the game." I shot him a pointed look. "Someone that isn't clearly infatuated with me."

My blush betrayed me, but I soldiered on. "You don't need to be there on the front lines. Just find a superhero you can control, and make him do your dirty work! Make it look like a team effort. Instantaneous fame and fortune!"

"I already have fortune, and in my experience fame isn't worth the trouble it causes. I like my life where I'm at now. Why should I risk my life just for adrenaline?"

"Exactly."

I hardly got the word out of my mouth before he covered it with his.


End file.
